


Completionist

by Control_Room, Random_ag



Series: Tortured Tales [23]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Cute in a way, Exhaustion, Insomnia, Narcolepsy, Sleep disorders, Understanding, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:40:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27679546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: Willy Franks was not the type to leave a job unfinished.
Series: Tortured Tales [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023520





	Completionist

Willy Franks was not the type to leave a job unfinished, no matter how many, many times he fell asleep doing it. He would get it done. No matter--

His eyes closed for point five seconds. When he opened them, he checked his watch: it was twenty minutes later.

Well shit.

He huffed in frustration, glad that he had left Shawn in their bed to go to work early, so that he could try to get things done, knowing that today would be a day of sleepy lapses. Early might have meant two am in this case, but what was important was that he was there and (mostly) active.

He squeezed his eyes shut with a deep inhale and pinched his cheek to try and keep his mind sharp. He was finishing this. No matter how many times he had to wake up, he was finishing this.

He forced his heavy body to move, hands gripping best as they could around the mop and using it almost like a paddle, pulling himself forward in the ever winding wooden river that were the hallways of the Animation Department. His mouth opened wide to let a glorious yawn escape his jaws. God help him, he would mop these damned floors.

Despite his neverending vicious brawl with narcolepsy, he did manage to clean a bit further before his aching eyes detected a source of light coming from a barely open door. Together with the light came soft clicking and ticking noises, like that of a typewriter.

He knocked, the door pushing further open with his knuckles.

Willy and Joey stared at one another.

“Hi.” he said to his boss, absolutely confused. “What are ya doin’ up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Joey replied, immediately turning back to his work, long fingers tapping away like a machine gun’s rickets. The sound was lulling and transfixing, even in pauses and jumps of activity. Combine that with minor sips from a bottle of Coca-cola, and you had yourself two sleepless guys silently existing in each other’s time and space without much caring. Joey stirred after his third sip, realizing the man was still there. “W-what can I do for you? Why are you, um, awake and or here?”

Willy shrugged, fighting against Morpheus calling out to him: “Wanted to get a… how do you call it-- a head start? For today?”

“I see,” Johan responded. “Yet why?”

“Narcolepsy,” was the simple one word answer. “Here’s a quiet place, too. It’s… kinda comfortable, in its own special way.”

Johan blinked over the green rim of his Coca-cola bottle. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it. Here’s just got good memories. It’s got comfort in it’s very walls.”

“I… I’m glad you think so,” Johan murmured, the green of his screen lighting his face in a sickly color.

Willy frowned at the sight. Joey did not look too good.

“How long have you not been sleeping?” he asked.

Johan sucked a breath between his teeth, eyes going back as he estimated.

“A while?” was the best he could offer.

“Mhm.” Willy shook his head. “Do ya know… why you haven't been sleeping?”

“If I did I would sleep.”

“Touche.”

Willy shifted where he stood a little awkwardly, and Johan returned to his typing. It was not like Willy had not seen the computer before, but he did not particularly like it. No one did, he thought. Still, it was Joey’s tool, he used it and worked with it, typing away and creating animations through ‘software’ that processed their frames and outputted them, all ready to be turned to film and sent out. It was rather functional, and quite useful, he thought - made the work easier. But he could not help but think that it was not worth it.

His head fell to his chest suddenly as if it had treacherously been filled with rocks while he was not looking, and he stumbled a little to keep his footing. Johan looked at him with concerned ruby eyes circled by red, already by his side and holding his pudgy being up.

“Are y- you--?”

“Yes,” the janitor answered quickly. “Yes, I'm good. I'm good. I'm just… I'm good, just a bit…” his head spun rapidly, akin to a top.

Tender slender hands helped him to a chair: “Maybe two am wasn't the b- best time to start working, eh?” a gentle voice offered, trying to be amusing, not doing so well amidst worry. The computer's faint glow sparked and oscillated in his dark brown eyes, and he blinked quickly once or twice to get the light out of his corneas.

Gravity pulled his leg down as if made of pure lead, and his mouth began taking on a strange dry taste. He tried shaking his head, nodding and rotating it to pop his neck, but nothing seemed to be working; instead, his movements seemed to amplify his drowsiness ever more. He held Johan's hand without strength, struggling to mumble something of coherent meaning through pasty kneaded lips.

His forehead was gently laid on a shoulder clad in the soft cotton of a white dress shirt. It smelled the way clean things do - with that nice, oddly satisfying scent that comes with cleanliness, not quite properly describable, but so, so very good…

Johan gently set him into a lean so that his neck would not hurt. Well, there went his seat, he sighed to himself as he patted a hand onto the sleeping man's curls . After glancing around, he went to the abandoned mop. It was still early, and he would not be dozing off anytime soon anyways.

Willy Franks always finished his job.

Even if it wasn’t by his own hand.

He still woke up with his trusty mop beside him, the desks sparkling clean.

His brother was on the walkie talkie, thanking him for having gotten everything done early, though the twin was on the first floor.

Willy Franks was not the type to leave a job unfinished, and that was that.


End file.
